


Superstitious

by Zai42



Series: Daemon Couplets [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Canonical Character Death, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Sasha's daemon is a black cat. Sasha's daemon is not a black cat.





	Superstitious

The thing about having a black cat daemon in Sasha's chosen field was, it meant people didn't take her particularly seriously. Skeptics tended to think of her as a tryhard, scholarly believers found her an irritating cliche, and Sasha suspected the more... _eccentric_ believers thought she was supernatural herself more often than not. (Someone had once asked her if Zann was _really_ her daemon, or if he was just a decoy she kept while her real one was off on his own, performing rituals and doing magic. Neither Zann nor Sasha had had any idea how to respond to that.)

By the time they were actually employed at the Magnus Institute, they were almost used to it. And besides, now they had other things to worry about--and the things they were researching really brought a few tactless comments into perspective.

Finally being transferred out of Artifact Storage was such a relief that Sasha almost forgot that it meant they would be interacting with the public again. She was reminded, rather harshly, when the student with the hound daemon came in. He glanced at her, then at Zann, draped over her shoulders, and heaved out a sigh, rolling his eyes. "Isn't there anyone _else_ who could help me?" he asked the room at large. His daemon snorted.

"Well, everyone's mostly gone to lunch, is there something specific--?" Sasha started, only for him to cut her off.

"I'm doing _real_ research, you know," he said, his voice dripping with exasperation. "I'm taking it very _seriously."_

Zann bristled, flashing his claws as his fur stood on end, and Sasha opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off when one of her new coworkers--one she hadn't met yet, she thought--strode over purposefully. "Is there a problem?"

The student eyed up the newcomer's daemon--a large horned owl whose head had swiveled around at an alarming angle to look at Sasha and Zann--then said, with an air of one settling for something, "Look, _maybe_ you could help."

The man followed his daemon's gaze, meeting Sasha's eyes briefly; she shrugged. She watched his eyes flicker over Zann, and his face went from blank to understanding to annoyance and back to blank in the space of a second. "This woman is _easily_ the most competent researcher here," he said, turning back to the student. His voice, previously smoothly emotionless, now dripped with acid. (Sasha tried not to look too smug. They had never met, he was bluffing, but still, the praise made her preen, even if it wasn't real.)  "I'm sure there's nothing I could show you that she would be incapable of--"

"Oh for God's sake," the student mumbled.

The owl daemon ruffled her feathers. "Of course," the man said, "you can always feel free to attempt to do research on your _own,_ if nobody here is up to your...standards." The student grumbled something unflattering under his breath and shoved his way through them deeper into the Library. "Do let me know how that goes," the man called after him.

"Thanks for that," Sasha said, watching the student storm off. She turned back to her coworker. "Um. I don't know if we've met...?"

"Jonathan Sims," said the man, holding out his hand for her to shake. His owl daemon fluttered down onto a table so Zann could jump over and greet her.

"Sasha James," Sasha said. "I appreciate it. Some people can get weird about..."

Jonathan Sims rolled his eyes. "Some people are idiots," he said flatly. "I'll be astounded if he doesn't come crawling back for help within ten minutes."

"Probably," Sasha said, and then, after a pause, "Would you like to go to lunch?"

Jonathan grinned. "Certainly. I'm sure he'll find _someone_ to help him."

As Sasha headed towards the break room to grab her coat, Zann climbed up her back, pounced onto her shoulders, and began purring. "I like them," he announced.

"Yeah," Sasha said, leaning in when Zann butted his head up against hers. "Me too."

* * *

 

For maybe five seconds, while the monster melted and twisted its new victim into something wearable, the little black cat daemon mewled pitifully at its feet, eyes wide and yellow, body so wracked with pain he couldn't even stand. He batted ineffectually at the monster's ankle. "Sa--Sasha--J-Jon-- _help--"_

And then he vanished in a satisfying burst of golden dust, and the monster stretched out its new limbs. Joints and muscles popped and snapped into place until it resembled something human--nothing like _Sasha,_ but something that could get away with wearing her name. "Help," said the monster. Then: _"Help,"_ it whined mockingly, then laughed and bent down to pick up the tape recorder, ejecting the tape. It considered destroying it, but the thought of the Archivist's face as he listened to it was too _delightful,_ so instead it pocketed it. "Ooh, almost forgot," said the monster. "Let me see..."

In the dark of Artifact Storage, there was a thick squelching noise, then the echoing call of a cuckoo. "There," the monster said, holding up its faux-daemon to inspect it. It chirped again, tilting its head this way and that; the daemons were always the hardest part, since the real ones disappeared without anything fleshy left behind to sculpt with, but the monster was satisfied with its work, and it settled in to wait for the chaos outside to die down.

* * *

 

("What was he?" Cecilea would ask, feathers puffed up, orange eyes fixed on the tape recorder. "Jon, _what did he look like?"_

And Jon would shake his head, a hand pressed over his mouth, horror written on his features. Sasha was gone and they couldn't remember her face, couldn't remember what Zann was if not a feathered parasite that shoved eggs out of nests. "I don't know," he would breathe. "I don't know. I don't know.")

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself sad. :(


End file.
